Pride and Sexy Times
by melanche
Summary: Smutty little snapshots. Lizzy/Darcy, Jane/Bingley, Lydia/Wickham, even a little bit of Charlotte/Collins. WARNING: dark themes in some chapters.
1. Jane

**Jane**

Coiled like a metal wire, she woke. Her eyes snapped open and she realized quickly that she was utterly naked. One of her legs was sandwiched wantonly between Charles', while one of his arms wound possessively around her waist. The bedcovers had fallen to their hips, but she hadn't even noticed the cold due to the immense waves of heat rolling off of Charles' chest. Her husband was dead asleep, his head and its mess of curls resting heavily against her shoulder.

Merciful Father, she had not expected this. How was she going to survive married life if every morning began with such temptations? Any attempt to move her leg resulted in uncomfortable (but tantalizing) friction against the slumbering man's hard thigh. Her efforts to escape from under his arm proved equally treacherous. Finally, she managed to roll onto her back and attempted to calm her racing heartbeat.

The arm that draped across her stomach tensed, and her gaze darted to Charles' face to see if he was waking up. Her husband rolled forward slightly with a sleepy grumble, then paused when he encountered the resistance of her shoulder under his cheek. He pulled back slightly and gazed down at her.

"Morning," he greeted her, his voice still rough and a little confused from sleep.

"Morning," she whispered.


	2. Lydia

**Lydia**

They ate the cold breakfast that had been left outside their door. She laughed when he licked a fallen drop of jam off of her nipple. After breakfast, Wickham made good on his promise to explore every inch of her. He uncovered the hidden depths of her pussy with his nose and tongue. When Lydia came, again, she clamped his face between her legs.

"Do you want to touch it?" he asked, and guided her hand to his erection. She didn't stop there, but took him into her mouth and even went so far as to swallow his cum.

"You minx," he growled, and yanked her by the hips off of the bed.

One of the more interesting positions they tried that afternoon involved Lydia leaning her naked torso out of the window while Wickham gripped her waist and bounced her on his dick. Lydia had both hands clamped over her mouth while Wickham muttered perverted epithets into her shoulder blade.

"Are you satisfied, Miss Bennet?" he asked as they lay naked on the lush carpet, legs interlaced carelessly. He had a lock of her hair between his fingers and was rubbing it thoughtlessly.

"You are so inappropriate," she replied, flicking away the fingers that crept lazily toward her breast.

"And you are magnificent."

He pinned her arms above her head and kissed her neck. His hair tickled her chin. Lord, she laughed to herself. She loved him so, so much.


	3. Elizabeth

**Elizabeth**

She found the sex dreadfully boring.

The walks in the garden and the sarcastic ripostes were engaging enough. The living was comfortable, the carriage was often called to visit Netherfield, and the rooms at home were spacious, though a little quiet and empty.

But there was the solitude, where four sisters and a mother might have filled the high-ceilinged halls with laughter and moderately accomplished music. Georgiana could not possibly match an entire household's worth of talk and entertainment, though she had come quite prettily out of her shyness. Her playing, however, was too beautiful to allow for the casual listening that Elizabeth was accustomed to at home.

She spent as much time with the Bingleys as was appropriate, without it seeming like she was trying to run away from her husband. She jumped at the chances to entertain Charlotte (sans Mr. Collins) or Mary, who was growing into a refined and sweet young woman now that their father, missing his eldest daughters, was paying more attention to her. Elizabeth's new cravings for dances and balls might have nearly matched Lydia's former enthusiasm.

And when nighttime came, Mrs. Darcy lay on her back and made the appropriate sounds while her husband labored solemnly above her.

So, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy wasn't an adventurous love-maker. Elizabeth would forgive anything—she did love him, after all—but she wanted to scream when her attempt to bite his nipple resulted only in a look of horror and his immediate pulling away.

When she was sure of being left alone for the afternoon, she secretly read certain racy novels.


	4. Charlotte

**Warning:** this one's dark and disturbing. Rated M for a reason.

* * *

 **Charlotte**

She didn't know when it started.

Actually, she knew exactly when it started. Annoyed at the utter incompetence of Mr. Collins, feeling borderline murderous about how long he was taking to finish his business, Charlotte wrapped her slim hands around his throat.

He came harder than he ever had.

So she tied him, naked of course, to the bed and walked out of the house to do some shopping in town or to visit Lizzy. Returning, she'd use his rock hard erection to pleasure herself for as long as she wanted. Other times, she sat on his face while working on her embroidery. Once, she rammed a carrot into his ass and watched with equal parts disgust and intrigue as he cried out like a woman, flushing all the way to his ears.

"You're a dirty little whore, aren't you?" she'd ask, impaling him with zucchinis and eggplants.

"I'm a dirty little whore," he'd sob.

Lately, she would invite Mr. Collins' parishioners over for tea. During the meeting, Mr. Collins would be on his knees under the floor-length tablecloth, nose-deep in Charlotte's pussy. To spice things up, she'd grind his balls with her foot. Some days, when she was feeling particularly frustrated, she would strap on one of her many experimental contraptions and fuck her husband senseless.

It was a bearable way to live.


	5. Darcy

**Mr. Darcy**

He wondered sometimes if she loved him. Not often, but sometimes.

Tonight, for instance, when he watched his wife enter the bedroom after an entire day away from home. He, in his nightshirt, sat with a book open listlessly in his hands, while she brought in with her the cold smell of night. She moved about the room, disposing of packages and various articles of clothing, while barely paying attention to him.

She seemed so unreachable and cold. If he got up now and undid the uppermost button on the back of her dress, what kind of dull expression would she give him in return?

Her last step was to unpin her hair, letting the dark curls tumble down to her shoulders, before she crawled into her side of the bed. She lay down, her back to him.

Darcy removed his glasses, blew out his candle, and settled beneath the covers. He squinted at her in the dark, trying to guess what kind of mood she was in. But how could one anticipate such a woman like his wife? If he reached out now to brush the small of her back, her entire spine would go rigid.

"Long day?" he asked softly. She muttered an assent and was silent.

A lock of brown hair crossed the invisible line between them and rested on his pillow. He touched the dark ends, imperceptibly.


	6. Wickham

**Warning:** some violence, inequality

* * *

 **Mr. Wickham**

Lounging on the bed, bored, he watched her sit at the nearby desk writing letters. Her robe heightened rather than hid her indecency, hanging open in the front to expose fully naked breasts and thighs.

"Come to bed," he ordered dispassionately.

"I'm nearly finished," she sang back. It irritated him, how happy she sounded. She'd been in a mood all day until receiving a letter from her sisters.

He rose and stood behind her. She ignored him. He slid a hand down her chest to cup one ripe breast.

"I wonder if I could make you purr, kitten," he mused darkly.

He didn't make her purr. He made her scream.

He fucked her right on that chair. Her arms clung limply to his neck; her head lolled forward and back like a doll's. Pounding her soft hips into the hard wood, he knew how to leave her mind white-hot and blank.

She climaxed with a cry and crumpled, face red and panting. Wickham flipped her tiny, pliable body around, forcing her to brace herself against the chair as he drove deeper into her. He was rough, he was cruel, he was tugging her earlobe in his teeth while she moaned his name and countless other inanities.

Lifting her limp body, he walked over to the bed and threw her down on it. So all they had was this tiny room, in an unfashionable part of town, and no money for frippery. Well, he could still give her something, and he would make that very clear.

Slinging her calves over his shoulders, he didn't stop until he saw her tear up as she tightened around him, ravaged once more to completion.

Like this, she was completely his.


End file.
